


Summer

by RogueBelle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aristocracy, Death Eaters, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First War with Voldemort, House of Black, Marauders' Era, Rating: NC17, Sexual Content, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-17
Updated: 2011-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueBelle/pseuds/RogueBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reunited with his paramour at a society function, Rodolphus's passion overtakes his good sense, and he allows Bellatrix into his inner sanctum. 'Forgetting what Bella Black was like would be like forgetting sunlight, forgetting that air was good and water refreshing. But it had been a while since he'd been able to experience her charms.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer

**Author's Note:**

> This stems off of a drabble (http://charminggoats.livejournal.com/11992.html) that a friend once wrote. Uses, as all my fics do, my rationale (http://alyxbradford.livejournal.com/42255.html) on ages (not to mention my stubbornness on parental names).

Belinda Lestrange's idea was either very clever, or incredibly foolish, depending on who you were talking to.

Certainly it was novel: an all-day party on the longest day of the year -- and in that part of England, the summer days stretched on well into what ought properly to have been night, full-dark not descending until well after ten o'clock. The weather had held, pleasant warmth and blue skies, and so Belinda's extravagant affair took place outside, in the gardens of Areles Hall. Seating areas had been scattered about all through the grounds, generally positioned strategically near ever-refilling refreshment tables. There were games set up for general enjoyment, magical birds singing operettas in the aviary, statues which complimented the passerby, and, of course, an area for dancing, with enchanted instruments playing all along its perimeter.

Belinda took great pride in pointing out all of these niceties to Elaine Black, whose comments a few weeks earlier had provoked the need for the event in the first place. They had been sideways shots, as Elaine's always were, but pointed enough so that no one could miss their intention. _'You have such a lovely home, Belinda,'_ the woman had sneered. _'At least from what I remember... it has been such a long time since you've held an event. What a pity.'_ Privately, Belinda thought it was rich of Elaine to be making snide remarks about anyone, when her own son had run away from home just a year earlier, but she was far too well-bred to say so out loud.

Elaine's sniping, however, didn't change the basic fact: the Lestrange family was not as well-off as it pretended to be. Robur had spent much of his life trying to cover for his father Rhetor's excesses, and both parents worried that Rodolphus would also be saddled with his grandfather's curse. It took many generations to build a fortune, but only one to wreck it. Belinda knew her husband wouldn't want to spend the money, and she knew why, but people were _talking_. They had to put in a good showing, at least. If no one ever saw their estate, it would be assumed they were destitute, and Belinda couldn't be having with that, not if her boys were to snag heiresses (because _oh_ , wouldn't an heiress help things?). And so she had worn Robur down: _one_ event, but one that would leave the wizarding aristocracy a-buzz, one that would be _remembered_.

Belinda might have outdone herself, one way or the other.

While many of the guests found ways to keep themselves occupied, no small number of them could be seen growing bored and tired as the afternoon wore on, dropping lethargically into chaises and watching rather than doing. The general mood perked up, however, when dinner was served, meals appearing on long tables and picnic blankets alike, to suit individual pleasure. The atmosphere was also helped, in no small amount, by the arrival of champagne.

As the sun finally began to set, the blue of the sky melting into more vivid colours, Rodolphus wondered if the matrons and patriarchs had noticed just how many of their sons and daughters had conveniently disappeared. For that matter, he wondered if they had noticed how many of their husbands and wives had done the same. Glancing out at the crowd milling about the gardens, it was clear that the numbers had thinned somewhat, though of course no one would have actually left without bidding adieu to the hosts and hostess. Most of them would be staying the night in the guest wing of Areles Hall, specially extended for the event.

 _'And likely,'_ Rodolphus considered with a wry grin, _'some of our guests have merely decided to avail themselves of the guest rooms a little earlier than others.'_

There were still enough people about, though, to make it a fine party. Couples whirled in colourful elegance on the circular courtyard set aside for dancing, the pleasant tunes of the enchanted instruments carrying them along. On either side of the dance floor, a magical fountain flowed, one with champagne, another with wine. Near one of these, a few of the young men stood, adjusting cravattes and collars, glancing over at a group of young women, clearly all working up the nerve to go request a dance. Rodolphus followed their gaze to see who they were angling after...

And there was Bella Black, laughing riotously, the devil only knew what at. She stood in a knot with her sister Narcissa, Isoldt Raed, and Magdalena Warrington; probably the four women were enjoying some catty joke at the expense of one of their rivals. Bellatrix had been in fine spirits the entire day, Rodolphus had noticed, no doubt still reveling in her liberation from the schoolroom, and her acceptance into a society of an entirely different kind.

Looking at her now, it would have been difficult for an outsider to picture her at the work she had so eagerly embraced, hard to imagine this beautiful creature doing what she'd had to do in order to earn the Mark so proudly emblazoned on her arm.

Not that it was visible now, of course. A charm hid it, as one did Rodolphus's, and the Marks of several other gentlemen circulating about the gardens, possibly more of them than Rodolphus even knew about. Not all had been revealed to each other, not yet, not when the War was so new.

No, at the moment, Bellatrix's lithe, dusky arms, left bare to the shoulder by the cut of her gown, showed no indication of what else she had become. Her hair had long since fallen free of its decorous arrangement, and ebony spirals bounced charmingly around her face. The cobalt blue satin of her dress set off the loveliness of her features, and matched the sapphires dangling at her ears and throat. Tonight, she was simply Bella Black, in all her glory: maddening, tantalising, gorgeous Bella Black.

She caught his eye across the grass, and laughed. "Why, Mister Lestrange, I believe you're staring!" she called out.

Rodolphus shrugged, and sauntered closer. In the paling light, he could see a rosy blush on her cheeks -- not the flush of innocence beguiled, but rather, he suspected, the touch of champagne upon her features. "I wasn't staring. I was thinking," he said with a bow, raising her hand to his lips.

"Oh, did you hurt yourself?" Bella quipped, too offhandedly to carry any real malice.

Rodolphus smiled. "I was thinking of the best way to ask you for the next waltz."

Bella's eyes flew wide, pleasure sparkling in the obsidian pools. "Well, Mister Lestrange, I--"

At that precise moment, the band struck up a waltz.

Bellatrix gave him a sly grin. "You do have the devil's own timing, Lestrange."

"Is that a yes?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Magdalena was smirking, clearly wondering if Rodolphus was about to be punished for his impudence, and Narcissa had coolly lifted one pale eyebrow as she watched the decision flit across her sister's face.

"I suppose," Bellatrix said, sliding her hand into his, "I can spare a waltz for our _gracious_ host." Rodolphus tried to ignore the vaguely knowing looks Magda and Narcissa were exchanging as he led Bellatrix onto the dance floor. Women could be dreadfully unnerving if one paid too much attention to them.

Sunset cast them all in gold. A shimmering glow settled over the entire assemblage, pale gleams bouncing off of silken dresses and waistcoats. It seemed to soften the world.

Except on her. On Bellatrix, Rodolphus thought as he led her in the long, elegant lines of the waltz, the golden light illuminated each and every perfection of her features, rather than obliterating them in an aureate haze. And she smiled as she danced, smiled like she did when she dueled. Beautiful, dangerous Bellatrix Black...

"You are a vision tonight, mia Bella," he whispered to her, and felt a little foolish for how delighted he was by the spark of pleasure that lit in her eyes at the compliment.

"Yes, I rather thought so, too," she said, grinning, and Rodolphus had to laugh. No one else received praise quite like Bellatrix, who breathed in adoration as though it were more vital than air. "You aren't looking shabby yourself." The hand at his shoulder flicked up briefly, brushing at a lock of hair that had fallen against his neck. The soft brush of her fingertip was sharpened by the lightest drag of her fingernail, and Rodolphus had to steel himself not to shiver.

 _'Something about this woman...'_ Her merry eyes were searching him; Bellatrix could never quite keep up the façade of nonchalant decorum that young ladies of breeding were supposed to affect, that glacial veneer her sister had so easily mastered. She knew what she was provoking in him, and delighted in the game. _'I had nearly forgotten...'_

But that wasn't true. Forgetting what Bella Black was like would be like forgetting sunlight, forgetting that air was good and water refreshing. But it _had_ been a while since he'd been able to experience her charms -- apart from society functions during the winter holidays (a few of which had been, admittedly, quite memorable), Rodolphus had scarcely seen her in the past year, while she'd still been in school. The woman could be maddening, infuriating, a constant irritation on a daily basis, but somehow that hardly seemed to matter on this night, when she was warm and smiling in his arms, with the past seeming so far behind them, and the future so promising. Rodolphus willingly ignored all the times he'd wanted to throttle her pretty little neck; now he remembered only the pleasures, only the music of her laughter and the fire of her flesh.

Bellatrix hadn't forgotten, either. A year apart from Rodolphus had been a year with fewer fights, fewer causes for temper tantrums, fewer angry words exchanged with flashing eyes and barely-sheathed wands. It had been, in fact, a rather _boring_ year, so far as men were concerned. And now Bellatrix remembered what it was that drew her back to Rodolphus, again and again, despite her head screaming the reasons against him, despite the quarrels and his patronising possessiveness. His hands, gripping her waist and pressing at her slender fingers, were as strong and promising as ever. Bella looked up into his dark eyes, and saw the heat and hunger she'd been missing for most of a year.

The waltz ended, but Rodolphus couldn't take his hands off of Bellatrix. They skimmed her shoulders, rose to her rippling hair, caressed her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered shut as she indulged herself in the pure enjoyment of it. Rodolphus started to bend his lips to her neck, when a high-pitched, tittering laugh from a short distance away made him acutely aware of the throng still crowding the Lestrange courtyard and gardens. "What do you say," he whispered roughly in Bella's ear, "we find someplace a touch more private?"

Bella gave him a ruby smile, and huskily replied, "Oh, _yes_."

Unable to hold back a grin, Rodolphus slid an arm around her waist, and guided her away from the courtyard, towards an ivy-covered portion of the manor wall. He reached through the greenery, laying his hand flat against the stone. After a brief moment -- during which he took the opportunity to nibble at Bellatrix's neck -- the ivy began to snake backwards, and the stones faded aside, revealing an arched doorway. "It'll only respond to the touch of a Lestrange," Rodolphus explained as he pulled Bella inside.

"Thrilling," she drawled, letting him usher her up a narrow staircase. It opened out in the family quarters of the second floor, safely away from the guest quarters. At the top of the stairs, Bellatrix seized Rodolphus fiercely, tangling her fingers in his hair and dragging his mouth to hers, and they staggered, entwined, down the hallway. Rodolphus pulled Bella backwards, feeling behind him for the door to his room, opening it without looking and hauling her in.

She kicked the door shut behind them; he shoved her up against it, lips drifting from her mouth to her throat. Her fingers seized his collar, and he caressed her breast through her gown, feeling the nipple stiffen through the thin, silken fabric. Bella felt her heart racing, thrilling to this outburst of passion; so too could she feel Rodolphus's stiffening member, pressing against her. " _La mia vita..._ " he murmured against her lips, and Bellatrix felt similarly: this was life, renewed after too long a stretch of time wandering in the wastes with only drabness for company.

After a few minutes, Rodolphus broke the passionate embrace, dragging her away from the door and further into the room. She slipped out of her heeled shoes, and Rodolphus spun her around so she faced away from him. His fingers traced over her arms, provocatively light, almost tickling at the sensitive skin inside her elbow. She felt her flesh sizzle in the wake of his touch, tanatalised and electrified. Rodolphus gathered up her hair, lifting the weight of curls off of her neck, and then let it spill back out of his hands. Only when his hands slipped further down, moving to unlace her gown, did Bella open her eyes, actually looking for the first time at where she was.

The room suited him. Bellatrix could see that in an instant: neat, organised, dark. In the dim light, she couldn't tell if the covers on his bed were a deep navy or a purple, but either way, she wasn't surprised. _'The inner sanctum of Rodolphus Lestrange... fascinating...'_ She only had a few seconds to contemplate this, however, before Rodolphus's fingers finished pulling open her laces, and he shoved her dress off of her shoulders and let it pool at her feet. Beneath the gown, her undergarments were sparing indeed: knickers of ebony silk, and sheer black stockings. She heard Rodolphus suck in his breath, and had to grin. "No corset tonight?" he asked, his voice at her ear husky with desire.

She gave a laugh, which turned into a moan as he kissed her neck, his hands sliding over the swell of her hips. "Don't sound shocked," she retorted, her own voice a soft purr as Rodolphus's fingers skimmed to the narrow of her waist, up the curve of her ribcage. "You prefer me wanton."

"That," he said, cupping a breast with one hand and gripping her hip with the other, "is certainly true." His thumb hooked under the fabric of her knickers, and the other moved to join it, and, with intoxicating slowness, he peeled the garment off of her, caressing her legs as his hands moved downward, dragging her stockings down as well. He pressed a kiss to the back of her knee, and to the inside of her ankle, before rising.

In one smooth motion, he swept her up into his arms, out of the pile of garments at her feet, and carried her over to the bed. He set her down amid the copious pillows, and immediately started divesting himself of his clothing -- a task Bellatrix was all too eager to help with, at least when it came to unfastening his trousers. He caught her wrists swiftly, and felt her pulse leap beneath his thumbs. He was sure he'd meant to say something, something fantastically witty and cavalier, but with her before him, her lips invitingly parted, her hair in a wild cascade about her shoulders, all rational thought fled from him. His hands cupped her head fiercely, and his mouth captured hers in a devouring kiss. It almost felt painful to part from her, even long enough to undress -- which he did as quickly as possible. Bellatrix whipped back the bed's dark covers and stretched herself out on the ivory sheets, and Rodolphus felt his cock twitch in excitement, looking at all her darkness contrasted to the pure white beneath.

He joined her as swiftly as he was able, their lips fairly colliding in a frenzied kiss. Kneeling on the bed, Rodolphus pulled Bellatrix onto his lap, straddling him, and his lips and hands began to rove her body as though for the first time. He explored, stroking beneath the curve of her breast, tracing the ridge of her spine, trailing his tongue over her collarbone, kissing the flash of her throat where her breath caught in excitement. He could feel the heat between her thighs, so agonizingly close to his own member, and it took all the willpower he had not to sheathe himself in her immediately. Better to draw it out, to bask in this moment as long as they could, and fulfillment would be all the sweeter.

Bella clung to him eagerly, beautifully responsive, moaning and sighing with every deft motion he made. His touch felt almost reverent, his gaze as appreciative as it was lustful, and Bella gloried in it. Rodolphus had never thought her more beautiful, and she could feel that, and reveled in the silent praise.

It couldn't last long, though; not with them, and they both knew it. From other men she would readily accept worship, but from him, she demanded a challenge. And Rodolphus was only too happy to live up to her expectations.

He grabbed her wrists and shoved her backwards, pinning her against the sheets. She laughed, that full, throaty laugh that always seemed to send an electrifying, pulsing need straight through his body, and he fisted a hand in her hair, yanking her head back as his teeth skimmed downwards, closing around one of her nipples. Bella hissed, but not in protest, and stretched her arms up to grab hold of the headboard. Rodolphus's hand snaked down between her legs, stroking first at her inner thighs, then at the soft flesh where her legs met her pelvis. She whimpered softly, and tried to arch herself against his hand, but Rodolphus wouldn't let his fingers do more than graze over her intimate folds. "Rodolphus, I _want_ \--" she began, roughly, then, growing frustrated, Bella slammed her head back against the pillows. "Bastard! Stop teasing me, damn you..."

He chuckled, a low, lascivious noise that seemed to ripple straight through her. "Oh, _cara mia_ , my darling Bella... You never have had any patience..." His tongue drew a line between her breasts, even as one single finger dipped inside of her, stroking between her nether lips. A pleasured gasp escaped her, but it wasn't enough; she rocked her hips towards him, urging more.

"The hell with patience," she rasped, drawing her hands down to grip at his shoulders. "Just, for the love of glory, fuck me. Now."

He laughed again, then, quick as a striking viper, he had both of her hands in his own, and forced them back up above her head. "Far be it from me," he said, dipping his head to press a bruising kiss to her throat, "to deny a lady, particularly when she asks _so_ sweetly." He gathered both of her wrists in one hand, holding them fast against the pillow, and used the other hand to guide himself into her. His libidinous groan matched her exalting sigh of relief. "Oh, god, _yes_ ," one of them murmured, or perhaps both, and Rodolphus began to pump in and out, dragging his cock slowly from her velvet warmth, delighting in her guttural moans when he sheathed himself again.

The familiar rhythm built between them, Bella's hips rising from the bed to meet Rodolphus's, his grunts of exertion and pleasure melding with her fevered cries of joy. He released her hands, which fell about his shoulders, pulling him closer, so that their chests pressed together, his face buried in her neck. Her legs drew up, hooking around his hips, encouraging him in deeper. "Ride me," she heard him breath, and, avidly, she nodded.

He rolled to his back, sliding out of her, and Bella felt an ache at the sudden lack. She moved atop him, and with a guiding hand, impaled herself on his turgid staff. Quickly she established a new rhythm, pumping herself up and down, and Rodolphus watched as her full bosom rose and fell, bouncing with every motion. Bella's eyes met his briefly, and each saw pure lust, pure need reflected in the other.

Both his hands suddenly clamped down on her hips, pulling her all the way down against him, then guiding her into a rocking, back-and-forth motion. She leaned down, bracing against his chest for support, her head swimming in pleasure as a white-hot coil tightened in her where their bodies were joined. "Oh, _fuck_ ," she gasped, fingernails pressing into his skin. "Fuck, _yes!_ " Every second, Bella felt certain she could stand no more ecstasy, that surely it had to explode _now_ , and every second, Rodolphus pushed her further over the brink, until finally, _finally_ , climax came upon her with a rollicking force. Her fingernails clawed red lines down Rodolphus's chest, and she threw her head back, screaming with the rapture of it.

While she was still reeling, light-headed from the force of orgasm, Rodolphus rolled them back over, hooking her legs over his arms and pistoning into her. Bellatrix clung to him, clutching at his biceps, and with each thrust, a breathy little moan escaped her. Rodolphus felt dizzyingly powerful, supremely masculine, the pair of them a god and goddess in sublime throes.

They intertwined completely, her legs insinuated with his, his arms snaked around her back, holding her as close as he could. Her fingers scrabbled at his back as she felt herself driven towards a second peak, and she clenched around him, desperate to feel that glory again. "Not yet," he growled to her. "With me." Bellatrix mewled with overwrought desire, but forced herself to hold out, letting Rodolphus's thrusts, ever faster, ever harder, keep her right on the brink, without tipping over.

Rodolphus could feel his own climax building, an insistent pressure that drove his cock forcefully into her, and as the sensation spread, fiery through his hips and tingling in his balls, Rodolphus found himself gulping for air, barely able to pant out the words, "Fuck... oh, fuck... _now_ , Bella!" Her exhilarated cry was both grateful and elated; her fingernails clawed into his back and neck as her orgasm rocked her, causing her to buck off of the bed. Rodolphus groaned loudly, a liquid rush pouring out of him, encouraged by the rippling tension of Bella's climax, gripping around him, coaxing him through the last lingering seconds of bliss. He had never felt better; no one had ever felt better.

Somehow, Rodolphus found the strength to withdraw and roll off of her before collapsing, with one arm thrown over his forehead. Bellatrix was still shaking with the aftershocks of such supreme pleasure, and they both lay in silence for several long minutes, drawing in deep breaths, letting a warm languor spread over them. Bella eventually flicked her eyes over at him, wondering if anything needed to be said, wondering if she could even think of anything to say to him, after experiencing something so intense, so tremoring. But, no; she could tell when he returned her gaze. There were no words for this moment, and feeling somewhat relieved, Bella stretched herself out comfortably, and let her eyes drift closed.

Rodolphus sighed. They ought to move. They would be missed -- the hostess's eldest son, and the most brilliant star of the House of Black -- neither could be missing from the festivities for very long without someone noticing the absence. But Rodolphus could not summon the willpower to move, or the strength to make his limbs obey the command even if he felt inclined to give it. Bellatrix seemed to feel similarly; she had gone utterly limp, sprawled on the heap of pillows. Torpidly, Rodolphus jerked the sheet over them both, before sinking back down, telling himself he would just rest, just for a few minutes, and then they'd go back to the party...

Rodolphus stirred to consciousness sometime later, his head still fogged with champagne and languidly hazy. Drowsily, he noticed an arm, soft and feminine, draped casually over his chest. He turned his head and saw jet-black curls, tumbling over a pillow, kiss-bruised and slightly parted lips, the swell of breasts and hips, feet tangled in a much-kicked sheet. He smiled. _'Hard to argue with waking up to find a beautiful woman in your bed...'_ he thought. He rolled to his side, one hand stretching out to lift the curls from her cheek so he could press a kiss in their place, as naturally as though he had done it a thousand times, and would do it a thousand times more.

He froze, with his hand still inches from her face.

That thought, that simple realisation, jolted him from the lazy comfort that had settled over him. He catapulted himself from the bed, only afterward pausing to worry that his swift exit might have woken Bellatrix up. She dozed on, however, and, staring at her, Rodolphus sank into a nearby chair.

There was a woman in his bed -- and not any woman, but Bellatrix Black, widely regarded the most difficult female in all of wizarding England, and probably the Continent, too. She had given Rodolphus merry hell for years, first with the petty rivalries of childhood, then tormenting him in entirely new ways as they grew up. Of all the women, that she should be the one, the first one, to make it back here...

Rodolphus never brought women home. It was all very well to have them almost anyplace else, but his room was _his_ , a private sanctuary.

And yet, there was Bella Black, languidly stretched out in his bed, as though she had any right to be there.

Rodolphus paced, hands folded behind his back, trying to identify the reason behind the rapid tattoo his heart was now beating out. The constriction in his chest, the surge of adrenaline prompting motion, action... it felt uncomfortably like fear.

He glanced back at Bellatrix. She looked completely at ease, and it struck Rodolphus as wildly unfair.

_'Woman, what have you done?'_

He ought to wake her. As brusquely as possible, really, to prove how utterly little it meant to him that she'd fallen asleep there. It wouldn't take much to provoke a fight. It never did, with her. Then she'd be gone, and it would be like nothing had ever happened.

But he couldn't make himself.

She twisted slightly in her sleep, with the smile of a pleasant dream on her lips, and Rodolphus couldn't bring himself to shake her awake and toss her out like the trivial fling he really insisted to himself that she was. Instead, he slipped back into bed, stretching out alongside her, letting his eyes drift appreciatively over her body.

Besides, he thought, with a slow grin, if she fell asleep in his bed, then he was certainly within his rights to demand another go as soon as she woke up.

 

  
  
_"Summer is the time when one sheds one's tensions with one's clothes,_  
and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit.  
A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief  
that all's right with the world."  
– Ada Louise Huxtable  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work, please check out [my blog](http://cassmorriswrites.com)! I also write original fiction, and my debut novel will be out January 2018.


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